riverviewlogs | my body's stuck

Entry tags:

my body's stuck

who: dead dad

hellshot and shitty kitty

nyahilistic
what: reaper's back ~~from the dead~~! ichimatsu's going to ineffectively punch him a lot.
when: let's just say may 8th because that's today
where: bottom floor of communal housing.
warnings: swearing. emotions. ...a cat trying to hit a corpse with a mask. also talk of vomit, but no actual vomit.

[He figured the only reason he was actually still mad was because this meant Osomatsu and Karamatsu had been right. They'd both told him people could come back, not to lose all hope. But what hope did he bother having, ever? He'd had a hard enough time settling on the notion of considering Gabriel Reyes his friend, losing him just about immediately after had been like a sucker punch to an already bruised solar plexus.]

[So he was letting anger fuel him for the moment, knowing full well from the way his heart hammered in his throat like a hummingbird that he wouldn't be able to stay that way. In one hand he clutched the mask Reaper had for some reason left in his care, a faded and threadbare hoodie swung over his opposite arm. He was wearing the beanie, May heat be damned, and he wasn't planning on taking it off to return it. Maybe he'd just headbutt him.]

[Reaching communal housing made him slow to a near stop and go still, coiled like a tiny spring in front of the building and very sincerely fearing walking in to find nothing. He'd been told to come here, at least, meaning Reaper remembered him, but that bore minimal comfort. It didn't mean he hadn't imagined the entire (brief) exchange. He stalked the rest of the way into the lower level of the building, standing dead center and walking himself in a small circle, keeping his expression annoyed but level.]

All right Apparition McGee, come out come out wherever you are.

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[He knew the Matsuno brothers don't live in the housing quarters anymore. His memory, while foggy from returning to this damn place, remembered exactly where the three-of-six matching brothers lived, sure--but it was the matter of not wanting to go outside while looking particularly corpselike.

His mask was missing, even if his hooded leather jacket wasn't. A hood could only cover so much, and he really and truly didn't feel like attracting the attention of people who were apparently all recently infected with some nano-machine virus. Last thing he wanted was to be blamed because wow this wasn't his problem or fault, thanks.

He's hanging out in the bottom foyer of the housing quarters--not in 'human' shape, but rather a low hanging cloud, a shifting black shadow hiding in some of the more natural shadows of the room. Maximum avoidance of any other passer-bys.
There's the recognition of a certain catlike man as he rushes into the room, a recognisable beanie on his head, his arms full of other items he'd 'left' behind.

He probably would have materialised right there and walked up to the guy; but when that nickname came out, with that low, hissing tone, well.

Instead of re-shaping himself, a certain cloud merely flicks out from the shadows, coiling around the other like a swarm of angry bees.]

What kind of nickname is that.

[Despite there being a voice, there's no face to speak those words; the sound raspy and somewhat garbled, as if spoken through a crackling radio.]

[He bristles before the cloud of not-bees is even fully upon him, and walks himself in another circle in the opposite direction trying to decide what point of it to glare at. He doesn't bother trying to actually come off as intimidating-- he knows he isn't, and especially not to someone like Reaper, but he swats the smoky haze surrounding him with his own mask anyway.]

The best one I could come up with on the fly, I never claimed to be creative.

[As his own mask is used as a weapon against him, the coiling mass of black smoke appears to shift and materialize, a hand grabbing out from the smoke to attempt to grab it from the other.]

Considering you had no time to prepare, I'll overlook it.

[And there's a pause, and the smoke is finally going to disappear, the shape of that too-tall, too-dead looking man will finally settle a few inches away from Ichimatsu, hand on the mask he'd grabbed at but the other hadn't let go.]

...

Guess this is a point where people normally say... something apologetic.

[He manages to hold onto being angry long enough to still glare when there's a face to glare at. Gabriel is world's stronger than he is, so there's no point in trying to wrench the mask from his grip, so he just pushes it at him and lets go, taking a few steps backward to leer.]

[He falters when he gets about as much of an apology as one can get out of someone like Reaper, and huffs, squaring his shoulders.]

I'm keeping your fucking hat.

[But he offers the hoodie a moment later.]

[He expects the leer. No, part of him knew it was coming, and he fully expects another verbal lashing from the other, too. But instead, the other threatens that and he's actually at a loss for words. His head jerking back with a furrow in his eyebrows, pitted red eyes focusing on the other in semi-confusion.

Hey.]

I've had that beanie since I joined the army, you know.

[how dare you. But also, he doesn't seem to be arguing, it was a weak protest, considering who was the one protesting. His hands smooth over the ridges of his mask, slightly dented and chipped in places due to wearing it through combat.]

I didn't plan on leaving, you know.

[He huffs and yanks the hat off, leaving his hair hilariously messier than it already is on a regular basis, and starts to shove it at him, too, but stops.]

...I've been wearing it, I should probably wash it. [It's not like he's unclean, but.]

[He knows he didn't leave intentionally. Few people really do, because even when you're trying that's just not how it works. But it's easier to be mad about it than anything else, so he just swats ineffectively at him with the hat.]

I know.

[....

There's a moment, and he puts his hand up. Fingers splayed out, one clawed finger moving to press against his hand. He pushes the offering back against the other.]

Said I had it since I joined the military.

Didn't demand it back.

[He's not an idiot, he knows leaving was probably horrifying for even just a small number of people on this damnable alien planet, so.]

...Hats're bad for your hair when you get older anyway. Or people start to think you wear them because you're going bald.

[A slow, dead grin. It fades into something a little somber, his arms crossing over his chest.]

Could hang out here and talk. Or we could go somewhere a little less thoroughfare.

[He really, really hates the way his fingers immediately curl around the beanie and his throat closes up on him. He swallows against what has to be his entire adam's apple and closes his eyes, focusing instead on the idea of Reaper not wearing a hat because he was old, and the look he would give people for assuming he was going bald.]

[He lifts both hands and tugs the hat down over his hair again, pulling on the ends of it until they cover his ears and then just leaving his hands there. He looks up and gives him a crooked little smile.]

...I'll buy you a drink, and I promise I won't ralph in a trash can this time.

... [Ha, he remembers that little event all too well. It was like it was recent, too, with how jumbled his memories from the last little while were. He gives his head a small shake, a low, growling laugh escaping him. It sounds nearly like a cough.]

You make a promise like that, and I'm going to make you stick to it.

[But then he gestures towards the exit. A 'let's go' motion as he shifts to adjust that too familiar mask over his face, feeling a bit more like himself again.]

[He nods, ducking his head forward and skimming his hands along the edge of the hat until they're on his forehead, dragging them down just enough to press the heels of his hands into his eyes for a moment. He inhales, holds his breath, and exhales, and then drags his hands the rest of the way down his face, stretching.]

[In doing so, he pointedly punches Reaper in the arm, though it's entirely feasible he doesn't even feel it.]

Fine, fine, jeez. I could have puked on you, you know.

[You know how sometimes, when you're outside on a particularly nice day. During a walk, a large and somewhat stupid carpenter bee will run into the side of your face? It's startling and you don't expect it, but it doesn't really hurt so much as it's just like. 'Wow okay that just happened'.

That's basically how Ichimatsu's punch felt, and Reyes takes a moment to properly compute what he just did.

A small grin moves over his now-hidden face as they start to walk, a hand moving up to touch the spot where he'd just struck.]

When you punch someone, you have to put the strength of it behind your elbow, not your wrist.
You puking on me would be more effective than a dozen of those.

[He rolls his eyes, having to take two strides for every one of Reaper's but not even remotely bothered by doing so. He's short, he gets it. Reyes is also just outrageously tall. He sticks his chin up with a childish frowning pout of sorts as he falls in step with him, tossing his arms out to the sides just enough to look flippant.]

Not into emetophilia, and I doubt you'd feel it even if I did put strength behind my elbow. Lookit these arms, they're flabby noodles. Overcooked ones.

[Outrageously tall, and someone who only walks when he wants to. He could just be floating around like the edgy ghost he is and then you'd never keep up. Ichimatsu should really appreciate how considerate he's being right now. (But then again, he's likely doing it entirely due to how angry Ichimatsu looked and sounded when he'd first returned. Paying his upset back in small ways over time, etc.)]

Kind of surprised you knew the exact term for that. Makes it sound like you might be into it secretly when you use the term like that. [You can almost HEAR him grinning a little behind his mask. One of those huge, claw-ended hands move to prod one of Ichimatsu's arms, giving the underside of it a mean little pinch.]

You're made of overcooked noodles.

[He mostly just appreciates that he's being, right now? But sure, he'll appreciate the legs, too. Better than bees, at least.]

Okay smartass, if I were into sexual puking I'd have probably not taken the time to find a trash can at that party. Also if you knew the term to know what I meant, what does that say about you?

[He yelps at the pinch in a way that is literally a meow, not even kind of it's just he meowed, angrily, just then, and now there's a tail lashing behind him and the beanie is misshapen by little triangular ears pinned in annoyance.]

Oh so now you'll agree I'm fat.

It says that I'm a well-studied genius and you should really look into respecting what a brilliant mind I have, and how well-put together I am for a psychopath with a violent streak.

[Was this sarcasm or was he being serious, you decide. Again, you can just tell by the way he's speaking that there's a crooked grin plastered across his dead face hidden under his mask.

Especially when his pinch had caused such a reaction from the other, right down to the lashing tail and pointed ears.]

'Soft' and 'Fat' are terms that can be mutually exclusive.

[He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat that mostly is heard through his nose, shoulders hunched and tail continuing to lash behind him.]

Well-studied genius, what the fuck are you studying, kinks of the underworld? [It's fine, he's grinning too. He probably hasn't spoken this much in weeks, but there's a very small, childish part of him that's resisting the urge to bounce as he walks. It's enough to fail at suppressing the grin.]

"Soft", fine, whatever. Soft and made of noodles.

'How to pick out other psychopaths in a crowd', actually.

[He's going to reach down just enough to pinch one of those cat ears as they finally arrive at one of the more nearby pubs to the housing circle--one can never be too far away from a drunk tank, it looks like.]

I'll just have to pick up where I left off, trying to toughen you up a little before you get into some real trouble.

Are you saying I'm a psychopath and you've picked me out of a crowd, Reaper?

[He flinches again, jolting sideways away from him and making a sound that is... really too much like a hiss to not be one. He just hissed at you, Reaper. Why are you two friends?]

[Still bristled and tail now about twice its previous size, he rolls his eyes and groans, letting his spine go slightly boneless so he curves at a funny angle looking dramatic.]

Eughhh, I was hoping you'd forgotten. [No he wasn't.]

That's the secret about society, Ichimatsu. One in fifteen people are psychopaths and most of them don't even know it. Don't take it as an insult.

[He flaps a hand at him, smirking in a way the other won't see thanks to both the mask and the angle at which he's standing away from him, something comfortable in seeing that despite his... sleep, the other hadn't changed too much from the grumpy cat-man he'd actually grown to appreciate.]

Mind like a steel trap. Don't forget a damn thing. Just like how you promised to be the one to pay for drinks.

[He's opening the door to the building for the other and everything. After you.]

Insult? That's a compliment, honestly.

[He was a horribly sad cat when you first left but he got better. He's also just buzzing on a happy catnip high because you're here and you're entertaining his aggressive need to follow on your heels and hang out with you. He missed you, damn it.]

I offered a drink, but multiple is fine, too I guess. Can corpses even get drunk?

[He doesn't even have to duck to move under his arm, and that kinda makes him mad, but he slides right under him and into the building anyway. He's not been here, the only drinking in Riverview he's done has been at that party and in his own house, so the ears under the hat perk up and he scans the whole building idly before even bothering to look for someone to tell them where to sit.]

[It was oddly familiar, and somewhat comfortable buzzing, at least. Even after how disorienting as it was to re-form after what felt like sleeping for far too long. He shakes his head with a dark chuckle at Ichimatsu's claim to feel complimented by what was supposed to be a rude quip.]

...Remember, one time on the Eluvio, actually. Claimed I couldn't get drunk because I hadn't gotten into the habit of it since I died.

This pair of shitty ninja didn't believe it and cooked up a shitty plan to see if they could figure out a way to make it work, and they did.

Vowed never to let it happen again.

[Deliberately vague? Yes, definitely.]

[He exhales through his nose in something that is half laughter and half snorting, his hands finding their way into his pockets as he turns a grin over his shoulder.]

A shame, really, I think I'd like to see the great Gabriel Reyes intoxicated.

[Wow, that... tone of voice came out sounding a lot fonder than he meant for it to. He doesn't seem to realize, right at first, and then it's almost like he hears himself in echo and his face flares scarlet and he pointedly looks the other direction.]

[He's quiet for a moment after Ichimatsu admits that. He's black ops, Ichimatsu, there's no tone or nuance he misses for a moment. If the other could see his expression it'd be somewhat surprised with a mix of amusement, another sort of smirk curling up pale lips.]

Is that right? Didn't know it was that important a wish.

[You can FEEL him grinning as a hand reaches to absolutely mess up the already unkempt hair on the top of Ichimatsu's head.]

Wonder if I should tell you how they did it, then.

[He makes a distinctly catlike yowl of a sound, reaching up to try and shove Reaper's hand away only to not put any conviction into the action, leaving him just pressing his hands into his wrist and grumbling about it.]

You could, but that might be dangerous knowledge to give a shitty cat.

[He's not moving his hands.]

Oh? Dangerous?

[Yeah he's not moving his hand. If anything, the hands on his wrist only makes him scrub a little harder, purposefully rocking the other back and fourth a little.]

I don't think so. I don't expect you have the coordination to pull off what they pulled off.

But maybe it'd be fun to give you a challenge.

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